"I don't know who you are, but if you use physical violence toward
that, as you seem inclined to do, the consequences may prove very
unpleasant."

"And without pleasure our evening would be spoiled, wouldn't it, my
little mercenary friend?"

Humour vanished from his face, like sunlight from a landscape,
leaving it hard and rocky. Before anyone realised what he was doing,
he encircled the soft, white neck of the materialised shape with his
hairy hands and, with a double turn, twisted it completely round. A
faint, unearthly shriek sounded, and the body fell in a heap to the
floor. Its face was uppermost. The guests were unutterably shocked
to observe that its expression had changed from the mysterious but
fascinating smile to a vulgar, sordid, bestial grin, which cast a
cold shadow of moral nastiness into every heart. The transformation
was accompanied by a sickening stench of the graveyard.

The features faded rapidly away, the body lost its consistence,
passing from the solid to the shadowy condition, and, before two
minutes had elapsed, the spirit-form had entirely disappeared.

The short stranger turned and confronted the party, with a long, loud
laugh, like nothing in nature.

The professor talked excitedly to Kent-Smith in low tones. Faull
beckoned Backhouse behind a wing of scenery, and handed him his check
without a word. The medium put it in his pocket, buttoned his coat,
and walked out of the room. Lang followed him, in order to get a
drink.